


Slightly Out Of Control

by okbutjusthisonce



Series: RFU [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, John Watson is Crazy Knocked Up, M/M, Mpreg, Omega John, Omega Verse, Selfridges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:38:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okbutjusthisonce/pseuds/okbutjusthisonce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"John," says Mycroft gently, "why don't you two bond? It would make all of this easier... You'd have far less "suitors" and Sherlock wouldn't get quite so agitated during your pregnancies... Assuming of course you're not completely addicted to those elements."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slightly Out Of Control

**Author's Note:**

> Watch out! Revealing more of my own O-Verse Rulez!
> 
> Which, you guys may or may not know (or care) but are consistent across ALL my work,  
> LOL, as weird as that is... The Return and Until We're Done under the same umbrella...
> 
> I hope you are all having lovely holidays. I am hoping to get to write lots of craziness for you over them...

Mycroft watches his brother-in-law talk his way into free delivery for the items they've just purchased. John leans backwards, enormous belly titling slightly up as he flirts with the young alpha behind the counter. Hands bracing the small of his back, he sways heavily looking all but ready to burst.

A normal omega would not insist on wandering about like this, he thinks. John is of course, far from normal, but he really is impossibly pregnant at this stage; he really should be at home. Mycroft really should be at work, not babysitting his brother's overly fecund mate. However, Mummy has declared Sherlock too much of a hormonal mess to properly look after John (on this point Mycroft must agree; getting Sherlock out of trouble for alpha inspired acts of destruction is becoming tiresome), and she will not stand for a mere employee to chaperone her beloved son-in-law and the even more cherished grandchildren he carries. Mycroft never denies Mummy anything, never could deny her anything. Besides, he likes John. Stubborn, lovely John...

He cuts his thoughts off abruptly, they are more than inappropriate. He knows it's all in John's pheromones; they're so strong they cut through more than four decades worth of faithful suppressant usage. Even if it were otherwise, he would never do that to his little brother...

"Ready?" A tiny current runs through Mycroft as John takes his arm and smiles at him. He feels a tickle in his sinuses for a moment as John's scent fills his nostrils. Through sheer force of will he vanquishes it and smiles back calmly.

"Indeed. You have everything you need now?" John nods, moves his hands to the surface of his enormous middle. His inverted navel is visibly pushing out against the taut fabric of his shirt which is really more of a mu-mu at this point. Mycroft focuses elsewhere.

"I could use a bite to eat..." John says rubbing himself slowly in thought. Mycroft is certain he hears the girl behind the counter groan. When he looks over, there is an iPhone pointed their way. Mycroft shakes himself loose and steps in front of her camera.

"There will be none of that, I'm afraid." She glares at him, her nostrils flaring, ready for a showdown.

"Is he yours?" She challenges.

Mycroft snaps his fingers. His men appear. He does not answer to arrogant, twenty year old alphas.

"What was that about?" Asks John innocently.

+++

They take the lift; Mycroft doesn’t think John should try for the escalator in his gravid state. The small box of a room is instantly saturated with the overpowering presence of unbonded, fertile omega. It reminds Mycroft of sex and need and promises the deep joy of "Home". John hums to himself in oblivious contentment, still rubbing his stomach.

"I'd like to stop and pick up something for Sherlock, if you don't mind."

"Of course not, whatever you like, John."

Mycroft sees the older beta woman next to pretend to discreetly place her hand over her nose. He feels a fine sheen of sweat forming on his brow. She looks at John, and then back at him, so judgementally, it’s palpable.

The doors slide open. John waddles out ahead, taking a cloud of desire along with him.

"You really ought to bond with that boy!" Scolds the woman, "it isn't decent, keeping him like that!" Before he can speak, she scuttles away like an angry crab. Mycroft is taken aback with her forwardness, rather than the sentiment. He knows his own scent is both close enough to Sherlock's and artificially faint that people mistake what they catch off of John as being his. Mycroft suspects when not at the mercy of alpha aggression, Sherlock finds this scandalous display of John titillating. Mycroft feels he can personally do without it. He was never one for direct rebellion, for public attention.

"Excuse me," says a voice at his elbow. Mycroft's gaze switches from John looking at ties to the trembling creature at his side. Another young girl, this one an omega. She is skinny and nervous and gazing at him with giant mooney eyes - oh no. She thinks-

"Your omega is so cute."

"Thank you, but he's not my omega-”

"And happy. He looks so happy. I don't think one has to be bonded to be happy. Do you? I mean, the traditional roles between genders is so limiting. The possessiveness between alphas and omegas doesn't have to be central to who we are. I mean... I love that you say he's not "yours"... I - I believe we can be more, than you know, just "mine" and "yours". We're all stronger together, we're social creatures meant to live as families... I mean... I...That's why he's so happy right? You're making a family together, I think that's wonderful, it's just the thing I'd do if given the opportunity...I'd...I'd love to be happy. I mean, like that."

She rapidly fires all of this off all this in one short breath and flashes an awkward, submissive smile. She is heartbreakingly cute in a pathetic kind of way when she smiles.

Mycroft sighs.

"He's my brother's mate." He says gently.

Her face turns a deep crimson with his words. Her embarrassment is tinged with something else as John looks up and affectionately waves at Mycroft, proudly holding up a pair of designer black pants.

“Sexy!” He shouts.

Mycroft breaks into his own awkward smile.

"You don't have to be cruel about it! You could just say you're not interested!"

"Really he's-" but the girl is gone, her humiliation still tangible. Mycroft personally loathes humiliation.

+++

They somehow exit Selfridges on the wrong side. Mycroft blames the alpha security guard who insisted upon escorting John for his safety, the young omega salesman who stepped into Mycroft's path (distracting the guard at least), the woman who gave John a gift, and the fellow who embarrassingly enquired about John's price, finally becoming enough of a nuisance that Mycroft's men are busy again. Some people, he thinks, simply refuse to take no for an answer under their own volition.

"The car will be here in a moment."

"Let's just walk."

"John you're-"

"In no condition, right? Listen, I'm about to officially tip into being overdue with this lot. I have to get these kids moving somehow," John says adamantly patting his stomach. "Besides, its only around the corner."

They are ambling slowly down Oxford Street when Mycroft stops and curses himself for not having more immediate staff with him today. It was only supposed to be a discrete bit of shopping...

"John, please stay calm, but there's a rather large alpha male following us."

Young, perhaps 27... a boxer, Mycroft thinks, profession... personal trainer. Romantically unattached. Not from the UK, but a native English speaker... Australian perhaps. Financially comfortable. Definitely interested in John, definitely looking for a fight, and to Mycroft's disgust, partially aroused.

"I know." Says John, "he's been there most of the afternoon." He breathes heavily, the walk has tired him out quickly.

Mycroft looks at John is surprise. He is not used to missing things-

"He's been holding back... But I saw him a few times... He came a little closer every time one of the others was distracting you." soothes John. He's used to being around someone who's ego is tied to the art of observation. Mycroft is surprised again, this time by John's generosity.

"Wait here." He says.

"No no, let me handle it." Insists John.

"His body language is very aggressive."

"All the more reason," says John opening the door to H&M and ushering Mycroft inside.

The man follows them in.

Mycroft hangs back by a rack of cheap hoodies and watches as John waddles over to his stalker. Mycroft is more curious than anything else at this point, for there are already several security guards, police officers and undercover agents diverted to his cause.

The man shoots Mycroft a menacing look. John says something and the alpha snaps to attention.

+++

"What did you say to him?" Asks Mycroft. London blurs by. They are finally in a private space, where Mycroft can relax. He loves his car for this above all else.

"I asked him to get me some shortbread."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Crystal's... no other brand will do..."

"I see." Mycroft taps a message into his phone. He is curious to know as to whether the man will go all the way to Scotland.

“And if he’d refused your request ?” Asks Mycroft. It's not a real question; it"s a "nudge" on his part - perhaps what Sherlock in his over dramatic way would call an experiment. It's what Mycroft enjoys doing most; a small push here, a gentle prod there in the right place to uncover (and often activate) a personality trait.

John doesn't disappoint. His doe-like eyes narrow and for a brief moment Mycroft sees the other John; the one who went to medical school and to war, who’s saved and lost lives, who Mycroft knows has killed people to protect his brother, and who apparently, sleeps just below the surface.

“I would have taken care of it.” John says curtly.

“He was quite smitten,” Mycroft assures, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you get that shortbread…”

"I am hungry, actually." John reminds him. The soft eyes are already back, John’s omega demeanor dominating again.

Mycroft signals the driver to change course as John snuggles up to him and promptly falls asleep.

+++

His little brother….he never changes. It’s Sherlock Mycroft thinks about as he watches John polish off a whole roast chicken. He has no idea where John is fitting it. His middle bulges so dramatically it keeps him back from the table, his thighs spread in a hopeless attempt for space.

Most people were shocked by Sherlock's sudden zeal for a spouse and offspring. His reputation had been sealed for them; he'd always be the staunch individual, the eternal genius loner. Mycroft knew better. His brother is all about being contrary and brash; and most importantly, never does anything half heartedly.

When they'd announced the first pregnancy, he'd been surprised... but so had they. After the twins were born, John quickly became pregnant again. And then again. Again and again ...and... well, Mycroft had taken all of that in stride.

It was entirely like Sherlock to go ages without any interest in relationships, family life, or even sex, and then turn around to do the extreme opposite... and get away with it ...brilliantly. Mycroft reflects he is only one of several people who now spend a great deal of their time helping with the many Holmes-Watson children.

"Brat." Mycroft hears himself snort softly. There's no anger, only a resigned bemusement. He is off the hook for having children himself, after all.

"What's that?"

Mycroft twitches his nose, stifling a sneeze, assaulted by pheromones. He pulls his handkerchief out. John is radiant, flushed, impossibly swollen. And next to him. He would bite John if John were his. Right now. And there would be none of these rude intrusions from outsiders… the lack of privacy and peace, John would simply be his and his only...only...only he thinks, in a short time, he won't feel any of this. He likes John, but not in that way... it's mutual, they both understand it well, but sometimes it's difficult to resist nature -

"I love how you smell." Says John suddenly, looking up with his large eyes.

"What? John..."

"Like Sherlock, but different somehow...Calmer... Cooler... In control. I can tell you're the elder...I feel so relaxed around you. "

"I see..." Mycroft moves back a little from John. They are secluded, in a private room in a private club. He reminds himself again, John is in a potent, magnetic, attention-seeking state. And Sherlock is prone to extreme, incurable jealousy, and really, flirting feels quite good-

"Uh listen, thanks for spending the day with me, I know how much you dislike that kind of thing… but... I'm... glad it wasn't Sherlock there today with that alpha..."

"John," says Mycroft gently, "why don't you two bond? It would make all of this easier... You'd have far less "suitors" and Sherlock wouldn't get quite so agitated during your pregnancies... Assuming of course you're not completely addicted to those elements."

"We... do... quite enjoy that part..." John confesses with a small smile. His hands start moving sensuously across his gigantic stomach. Mycroft sighs, feeling the faint nagging of sexual frustration begin to bubble under the surface of his skin. John seems to realise and stops.

"Surely the extra attention isn't worth the hassle?"

"I know... It's all a bit mad..." John says fiddling with a napkin, "But really that's not it..." He twists the cloth and bites his lower lip.

Mycroft nods, he thinks he understands.

He doesn't know what conversations Sherlock and John may or may not have had, but he knows enough about biology.

He knows bonding cuts down on fertility, sex drive, alpha-omega heat dynamics. It practically turns some couples into betas.

He knows conversely the longer an omega stays unbonded with offspring the more these very things get exacerbated; the body doing what it can to attract someone to provide stability. He knows it slows the aging process for omegas. He knows there are also impracticalities, associated risks. Not to mention social stigmas.

More than anything he knows his brother likes to feel alive, extreme and on the edge. And so does John.

"Slightly out of control." he concludes aloud, and John, understood, beams happily at him with his irresistible omega-look-of-love.

Mycroft feels himself blush, and then sneezes loudly before he can catch himself.

"I can't wait until you're back to your old self."  he grumbles.

John laughs and orders dessert.


End file.
